
ins 



05J 

11 




Entered, accordingto Act of Congress, in the year 1873 by Georoe M. Baker, in the Office of the 
Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



< * ^ Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FAUCES, adapted to either Public 
or Private Performance. Containing a full description of all 
the necessary Stage JJusiuess. 



SPENCER'S UNIVERSAL STAGE. 



1 



ci 



t) 



II: 



PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. BJr"iV*o Plays exchanged. 



1. Lost in London. A Drama in 

Throe Acts. Male, 4 Female char- 
acters. 

2. Nicholas Flam. A Comedy in Two 

Acts. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 Male, 

3 Female characters. 

3. The Welsh Girl. A Comedy in 

One Act. By Mrs. Planche. 3 Male, 
2 Female characters. 

4. John YVopps. A Farce in One Act. 

By W. E. Suter. 4 Male, 2 Female 
characters. 

5. The Turkish Bath. A Farce in 

One Act. By Montague Williams 
and F. C. Buruand. G Male, 1 Fe- 
male character. 

6. The Two Putldifoots. A Farce 

in One Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 
Male, 3 Female characters. 

7. Old Honesty. A Comic Drama in 

Two Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 
Male, 2 Female characters. 

8. Two Gentlemen in a Fix. A 

Farce in One Act. By W. E. Suter. 
2 Male characters. 

9. Smashington Goit. A Farce in 

One Act. "By T. J. Williams. 5 Male, 
t 3 Female characters. 

10. Two Heads Better thanOne. A 

Farce in One Act. By Lenox Home. 

4 Male, 1 Female character. 

11. John Bobbs. A Farce in One Act. 

By J. M. Morton. 5 Male, 2 Female 
characters. 

12. The Baughter of the Regi- 



?&; 



ment. A Drama in Two Acts. By 
Edward Fitzball. (5 Male, 2 Female 
characters. 

13. Aunt Charlotte's Maid. A Farce 

in One Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 
Male, 3 Female characters. 

14. Brother Bill and Me. A Farce in 

One Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 Male, 
3 Female characters. 

15. Bone on Both Sides. A Farce in 

One Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 
Male, 2 Female characters. 

16. Bunducketty's Picnic. A Farce 

in One Act. By T. J. Williams. 6 
Male, 3 Female characters. 

17. I've written to Browne. A Farce 
in One Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 
Male, 3 Female characters. 



18. Lending a Hand. A Farce in One 

Act. By ij. A. A'Bccket. 3 Male, 

2 Eemale characters. 

19. My Precious Betsy. A Farce in 

One Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 Male, 
4 Female characters. 

20. My Turn Next. A Farce in One Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 4 Male, 3 Fe- 
male characters. 

21. Nine Points of the Law, A Com- 

edy in One Act. By Tom Taylor. 
4 Male, 3 Female characters. 

22. The Phantom Breakfast. A 

Farce in One Act. By Charles Sel- 
by. 3 Male, 2 Female characters. 

23. Bandelions Bodges. A Farce in 

One Acf. By T. J. Williams. 4 
Male, 2 Female characters. 

24. A Slice of Luck. A Farce in One 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 Male, 2 
Female characters. 

25. Alwayslntended. A Comedy in 

One Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 
Male. 3 Female characters. 

26. A Bull In a China Shop. A Com- 

edy in Two Acts. By Charles Mat- 
thews. 6 Male, 4 Female characters. 

27. Another Glass. A Drama in One 

Act. By Thomas Morton. 6 Male, 

3 Female characters. 

28. Bowled Out, A Farce in One Act. 

By H. T. Craven. 4 Male, 3 Female 
characters. 

29. Cousin Tom. A Commedietta in 

One Act. By George Roberts. 3 
Male, 2 Female characters. 

30. Sarah's Young Man. A Farce in 

One Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 Male, 
3 Female characters. 

31. Hit Him, He has No Friends. 

A Farce in One Act. By E. Yates 
and N. H. Harrington. 7 Male, 3 
Female characters. 

32. The Christening. A Farce in One 

Act. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 Male, 
6 Female characters. 

33. A Race for a Widow. A Farce 

in One Act. By Thomas J. Wil- 
liams. 5 Male, 4 Female characters. 

34. Your Life's in Banger. A Farce 

in One Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 
Male, 3 Female characters. 

35. True unto Beath. A Drama in 

Two Acts. By J. Sheridan Knowles. 
Male, 2 Female characters. 



^cu.aLU'V.^i.C^u'. ^l^ 1 .*. .^^ ' -1 :~0~ jyi^ 



I 



7ii $ L 



MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. 



$. ®rama, in Thr^e jUJts* 



BY THE AUTHOR OF 

"Sylvia's Soldier," 
" Once on a Time," " Down by the Sea," " The Last Loaf," 
" Bread on the Waters," " Stand by the Flag," " The Tempter," " A Drop too 
Much," " We're all Teetotalers," "A Little more Cider," " Thirty Minutes 
for Refreshments," " Wanted, a Male Cook," "A Sea of Troubles," 
" Freedom of the Press," " A Close Shave," " The Great 
Elixir," "The Man with the Demijohn," " Humors of 
the Strike," " New Brooms sweep Clean," "My 
Uncle the Captain," " The Greatest Plague 
in Life," "No Cure, no Pay," "The 
Grecian Bend," " War of the 
Roses," " Lightheart's 
4 Pilgrimage," 

V\ " The 

Sculptor's 
Triumph," "Too 
, Late for the Train," 
" Snow-Bound," " The Ped- 
dler of Very Nice," " Bonbons," 
" Capuletta," " An Original Idea," " My 
Brother's Keeper," " Among the Breakers," 
"The Boston Dip," " The Duchess of Dublin," "A 
Tender Attachment," "Gentlemen of the Jury," "APublic 
Benefactor," " The Thief of Time," " The Hypochondriac," " The 
Runaways," " Coals of Fire," " The Red Chignon," " Using the Weed," 
"A Love of a Bonnet," "A Precious Pickle," "The Revolt 
of the Bees," " The Seven Ages," 
&c, &c, &c. 



^U 



— 



BOSTON: 

GEORGE -M. BAKER & CO., 

149 Washington Street. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 187;1 by 

GEORGE M. BAITER, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



Rand, Avery, &» Frye, Printers, Boston, 



MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. 



A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 



CHARACTERS. 



Abel Benton, Merchant. 

Matthew Allen, ^ 

Richard Carnes, > his Clerks. 

Charles Benton, J 

Job Layton (Scraps), a Rag-picker. 

Grace Benton, Abel's, daughter. 

Rachel Allen, Matthew's sister. 

Betsey Benton, Abel's sister. 



COSTUMES. 



Abel Benton. Blue coat, white vest, white necktie, dark 
pants, gray wig, side whiskers. 

Matthew Allen and Richard Carnes. Act 1 and 2, Business 
suits. Act 3, Evening dress. 

Job Layton. Act 1, Ragged coat fastened at the waist with a 
rope, rough iron-gray wig, rough beard, dark pants, large 
boots unblacked, dark necktie, old hat. Act 2, Black pants 
and coat, white vest, wbite necktie, hair and beard trimmed. 
The dress should be good but slouchy. 

Charles Benton. Act 1, Dark pants, white shirt, a large wet 

7 



8 my brother's keeper. 

handkerchief thrown loosely about his neck, boots in his hand, 
and coat over his arm, socks on his feet, hair dripping wet. 
Sprinkle the clothes with bits of isinglass for a general soused 
appearance ; change to Base Ball suit, with the letter G on 
breast. Act 2, Business suit. Act 3, Neat evening dress. 

Grace Benton. Act 1, Fashionable summer dress, with shawl 
and hat. Act 3, White evening dress, rich and tasty. 

Rachel Allen. Acts 1 and 2, Neat and pretty street dress. 
Act 3, White. 

Betsey Benton. Act 1, Black silk dress, scant, old-fashioned 
shawl and hat, gray front of hair. Act 3, Black silk dress, 
white bertha, front, and cap. 



Act 1. Scene. — Abel Benton's counting-room. Desk 
against wall, R. Desk against wall, L. Writing table, 
C, with drawer opening at back. Chairs before desks, 
R. and l. Chair r. of table. Lounge behind table, c. 
On desks inkstands, pens, paper, &c. The entrances 
are from r. and l. : that on the r. is from the ware- 
house and the street ; that on the l. leads to Abel Ben- 
ton's private room. Richard Carnes discovered seated 
at desk, l. 

Richard. 56 — 65 — 72 — 81 — 90. Figures, figures, 
figures ! I'm heartily tired of this drudgery, day after 
day, casting up columns that add no sum total to my 
earthly happiness. If one could be as lucky as our head 
centre, Abel Benton, patience would indeed be a virtue. 
But he's oue in a thousand. First a rag-picker, a 
searcher in cast-out heaps of rubbish for scraps of paper, 
rags, old junk, anything that by accumulation could pro- 
duce a few pennies with which to keep soul and body 



MY BROTHER S KEEPER. \t 

together ; then, by the usual stages of honest industry, 
rising to the more honorable position of peddler, proprietor 
of a small junk shop, general speculator in paper stock, 
and now gathering rags from every quarter of the globe, 
supplying almost every paper-mill in the country ; with 
an income sufficient to glut the appetite of the most luxu- 
rious, and a name A 1 on the street ; while I, with a 
rich and stingy old father, am forced to drudge in the 
counting-room of this opulent rag-picker for a meagre 
salary, keep myself, and grow rich on expectation. O, 
it's a funny world — 7 — 16 — 21 — a remarkably fa- 
cetious old globe — 32 — 37 — 41. Hallo ; who's there ? 

Enter Scraps, r., with a basket. In all his scenes his 
eyes are roving about the stage, and in this Act he picks 
up scraps of rags and paper, which should be left about 
for that purpose. 

Scraps. Eh, hey ! (Puts his hand to his left ear with 
this word, always.) O, if you please, Mr. Carnes, here's 
my ticket from the warehouse ; twenty-five cents — white, 
all white, four pounds and a quarter — just twenty-five 
cents. Hey, Mr. Carnes. 

Rich, (takes ticket, and gives Scraps scrip from desk). 
Twenty-five cents ; and is that the extent of your day's 
pickings, Scraps? 

Scraps. Hey? Yes, that's all. Pickings is hard, 
Mr. Carnes. 

Hick. O, you'll never amass a fortune at this rate. 
Look at the shining example of successful rag-picking at 
the head of our house, and stir your stumps a little more 
lively, Scraps. 



10 my brother's keeper. 

Scraps. Hey? Stir my stumps? O, no, can't do it. 
I've got the gout with too high living. Ha, ha ! high 
living ! I think I'll retire, and live on my fortune ; ha, 
ha ! my fortune ! That's good ; that's exceedingly good. 

Rich. You're an old sinner, Scraps. Now I've no 
doubt you have a snug sum stowed away in one of our 
banks. 

Scraps. Hey ? 

Rich. You'll cut up rich one of these days. In which 
of our banks do you deposit? 

Scraps. Cut up pranks, at my time of life — no, no. 

Rich, (rises, crosses, looks off, R., then comes down r. 
of Scraps). Now, look here, Scraps ; you're not so deaf 
as you appear. I happen to want a hundred dollars. 
Lend it tome. I'll pay you ten per cent.; the banks 
only give you six. Let me have a loan — 

Scraps. Hey? Let you alone? ""f- can't hear, you 
know. You're on the wrong side. 

Rich, (angrily crosses to L., pushing Scraps back as he 
passes). Bah ! you old fool ! None so deaf as those who 
won't hear. (Sits at desk.) 

Scraps (pointing l.). Is Mr. Benton in there, Mr. 
Carnes? 

Rich. Yes, he's in there, and very busy settling his 
last year's business. Not to be disturbed. 

Scraps. O, he's a rich un, he is, and once he was 
as mean and dirty a rag-picker as I am. We were 
chummies then, we were ; ha, ha ! not very chummy now 
— not very. He was a chap what saved his money ; 
mine went as fast as it came. He took to ibooks ; I 
took to billiards. He loved study ; I loved sport. And 



MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. 11 

so the road in which we picked parted one day ; he 
crawled up hill, and I down. Now he's a looking off 
over his vast possessions from the top of the hill, and I'm 
picking away in the mud, far, far below. Let this be a 
warning to you, Mr. Carnes. 

Rich. Warning to me ? What do you mean ? 

Scraps. O, you know what I mean. You're fond 
of billiards, and theatres, and — the tiger — you know 
you are ; and I know it too, for I've watched you many a 
night. Now Abel Benton don't like this. Here are you 
and Mr. Matthew Allen, equally trusted. He delights 
in books, you in billiards ; and depend upon it both of 
these, like everything else ahout here, will be weighed 
on Abel Benton's scales, and, when they do, billiards 
will kick the beam. 

Rich. You miserable street grubber, do you dare to 
threaten me ? Leave the room at once. 

Scraps. Yes, billiards is mighty captivating. 

Rich, {seizing a ruler, and approaching Scraps, who 
backs to r.). Clear out, you croaking vagrant. 

Scraps. But it takes money, Mr. Carnes, it takes 
money. 

Rich. Fool, take that! (Raises the ruler. Enter 
quickly, r., Matthew.) 

Matthew {steps between, and arrests Dick's arm). Easy, 
Dick, easy. Scraps' head is not thick, and the ruler is 
very thin. Don't spoil' either. 

Rich. Insolent old fool ! Were I master here, he 
should never show his ugly face in this place. ( Goes to 
desk, l.) 

Mat. Then I'm very glad you're not, Dick. Scraps 



12 my brother's keeper. 

is a very worthy old fellow. Since you and I have been 
clerks for Mr. Benton, daily, winter and summer, he has 
dropped in upon us, and I, for one, should miss him. 

Scraps. Thank you, Mr. Allen. 

Rich. O, you've found your ears, have you. 

Scraps. I haven't but one, Mr. Carnes ; the other's 
stopped, and I'm glad of it, for a poor old chap like me 
gets many a hard word flung at him, that can't touch the 
heart-strings when there's a closed door between, I'm 
much obliged to you, Mr. Allen. Mr. Carnes wanted 
to put me out, but, bless you, I don't mind it. I'm never 
put out, never ; aud mark me, / shan't be the one put out 
here — no, no. (Exit, r.) 

Rich. The meddling old scamp ! 

Mat. Dick, you seem out of sorts to-day. What is 
the trouble between you and Scraps ? 

Rich. Nothing you can mend. Any news of the 
Elmyra ? 

Mat. She has just been telegraphed. 

Rich. Any private signals? 

Mat. Yes, English rags, full freight, consigned to 
Abel Benton. 

Rich. Of course — low market, high prices, and just 
in the nick of time the Elmyra sails into Abel Ben- 
ton's pocket with a cargo of five thousand dollars in gold. 
The old scrub ! 

Mat. Aud who is old scrub ? % 

Rich. The governor, the head centre, Abel Benton, 
of course. 

Mat. Gently, Dick, gently. He deserves more re- 
spect. He has been a kind master to you and me. 



my brother's keeper. 13 

Rich. "Well, he ought to have made money enough 
by this time to retire and give us a chance. Now, here's 
the case of the Elmyra. You foretold a short market ; 
you proposed, sending an agent across the water. Your 
advice was taken ; it has proved a success : yours was 
the venture ; to you should come the profits. 

Mat. Dick, you are unreasonable. Listen : that ship 
sailing into port reminds me that seven years ago I stood 
on the deck of a vessel sailing into this same port. Com- 
ing to this country from old England, a lad of fourteen, 
leaving behind me the fresh-tufted grave of my mother, 
the only protector I had in the world, my only companion 
my sister, four years younger. Dick, you have father 
and mother, rich and powerful friends, everything about 
you comfortable and pleasant. You never knew what it 
is to cry with hunger, to shiver with cold, as I did in 
the old country ; you never stood, as I stood then, on the 
deck of a vessel with not a cent in my pocket, knowing 
not what awaited me amid the domes and spires of the 
city we were neariug fast. If you had, Dick, if you had 
suffered all this, and then felt upon your shoulder the 
hand which fell upon mine as I leaped ashore, looked 
into the kindly face that I looked into, you would strain 
every faculty of your being to serve the interests of so 
kind a benefactor as Abel Benton. 

Rich. Benefactor, indeed ! I tell you, Matt, you think 
too little of yourself. Benton is shrewd. I've no doubt 
he read in your face, at first sight, the energy and spirit 
by which he has profited. You've given him hard work 
for every dollar expended. 

Mat. Then, there's my sister. He has been like a 



14 mt brother's keeper. 

father to her. She is treated in his house as a daughter, 
every wish gratified, almost spoiled by his indulgence. 
; Rich. Well, he doesn't spoil us by indulgence. His 
old-fashioned notions put double work upon us. He 
won't have a safe, but requires one of us to sleep here 
every night. It's very lucky nothing has ever disap- 
appeared from the warehouse, for I believe he would dis- 
charge us on mere suspicion. 

Mat. He's an odd man, Dick, and no one can tell to 
what his whims may lead ; but with clear consciences, 
and determination to do our best, we need not fear his 
changing humors. (Sits at desk, r.) 

Charley (outside, r.). Old rags ! old rags ! (Enter, R.) 
Here you are, now, a prime lot, a little damaged by salt 
water. Who bids? Going, going. 

Mat. Why, Charley, where did you come from ? 

Chas. (takes handkerchief off his neck, and wrings out 
the loater). The bottom of the sea. " The sea, the sea, 
the boundless sea." I'm a river god, a mermaid, — 
Charley Benton as a live mermaid ; his first appearance 
on any stage. 

Mat. Come, Charley, be sober. 

Chas. Sober ! Do you know where I've been ? I've 
been in the depths of sobriety — at the bottom of the bay. 
I can lead you to the spot where the flounders are thick- 
est, for I've floundered among them ; where the smelts 
congregate, for I've smelt 'em ; where the rock is in the 
cradle of the deep, for I went straight for it — red hot. 
. Rich. You've been overboard. 

Chas. Considering my present humid appearance, 
that was not a very remarkable guess. 



my brother's keeper. 15 

Mat. And you are wet through. 

Chas. Thank you ; that's a very dry remark. Any 
more interesting news? 

Mat. If you don't change your clothes at once you'll 
be laid up for a month. 

Chas. Thank you ; any fool could tell me that ; but 
don't trouble yourself; I've a dry suit in the loft. 

Mat. But what sent you overboard ? 

Chas. My love of business. I was hurrying down 
the wharf to catch sight of the Elmyra, and — somebody's 
been shortening that wharf, for, before I knew it, I was 
in the briny, and bound for the bottom. 

Rich. You lummux, walked overboard? 

Chas. Exactly ; clamoring for help, which did not 
arrive until I'd been down clamming at the bottom. 

Mat. Well, run and change your clothes. 

Chas. My base ball uniform is up stairs, and if I can 
keep out of the governor's way, I'm all right. Mum, 
boys, for he's down on the manly sport. He knows noth- 
ing of the glories of the base ball field, and if he finds me 
in that rig I shall catch it. (Exit, r.) 

Rich. Clumsy chap. Served him right. 

Mat. Hold on, Dick. There's the faintest shadow 
of a mystery here. Charley may have accidentally walked 
overboard, but he took precious good care to remove his 
boots first. Did you notice ? They were as dry as mine. 
You'll, find there is more in this than appears on the face 
of it. 
. Rich. Matt, you're always finding excuses for him. 

Mat. Am I? Well, it's because he's a noble-hearted 
fellow. If he's not a driving business man, it's because 



16 my brother's keeper. 

he has a rich father, and does not feel the need of exer- 
tion. It's time Mr. Benton was informed of the arrival 
of the Elmyra. Where away to-night, Dick? 

Rich. The usual round : a little billiards, a peep into 
the theatres, and a good time generally. Will you go 
with me? 

Mat. No, I thank you, Dick. It's my night on guard 
here, and, besides, I don't fancy your sport. Ah, Dick, 
it's a pity you're so fond of it. If Mr. Benton should get 
an inkling of your predilections, 'twould go hard with you. 
Have a care, old boy, have a care. {Exit, l.) 

Rich, {at desk, l.). Have a care, indeed! Preach 
away, parson. You fancy yon are feathering yonr nest 
by the remarkably moral life you lead. Bah ! With all 
my love for sport, I can hold my place in old Benton's 
warehouse. He trusts me as fully as he does you ; con- 
fides to me as important business as he does to you. I 
have the advantage in being the oldest, and shrewdness 
enough to keep my pleasures from being noticed by the 
head centre. But I'd like to see you, Matt Allen, taken 
down a peg, and if ever I have the chance, you shall be 
brought to your level, depend upon it. ( Writes.) 

Enter Scraps, cautiously, r. 

Scraps (aside). I've been hunting everywhere for 
Master Charley. O, he's a sly one. Hullo ! there's Mr. 
Carnes again. Ho, ho! he'd break my head, would he? 
he'd turn me out, would he? We shall see. It's time 
Abel Benton knew the snake he is warming. O, I'll 
reward him for his kindness. 



my brother's keeper. 17 

Enter Charley, r., in base ball dress. Snatches the bas- 
ket from Scraps, and covers his head with it. 

Scraps. Help ! murder ! help ! (Extricating himself 
from basket.) Hallo, Master Charley ! Up to your old 
tricks, hey? 

Chas. Tricks, indeed ! I was only filling your basket 
with what it so much needs — old rags, old rags. 

Scraps. Now — now — now — you're a funny dog, 
Master Charley. But, my eyes, how fine you're rigged! 
Going sojering, hey? 

Chas. Sojering? No. This is the emblematic costume 
of the Gooseneck Base Ball Club. Ain't it gay, red hot. 

Rich. '■ Red hot! It will be well warmed if the gov- 
ernor catches you. 

Chas. But I don't mean he shall. When he takes 
the field, " I'm out on the fly." Ah, Dick, you should 
join us. It's glorious sport. 

Rich. Bah ! it's so fatiguing and so dirty ! 

Chas. It may be for you, lily fingers. You'd rather 
spend your time in a smoky billiard room. But for me, 
give me the free air, the green field, strong, tough fellows 
striving for the mastery, every muscle alive with health, 
sharp eyes, eager hands, quick legs, the strike, the run, 
the catch. O, it's glorious! Hey, Scraps? 

Scraps. O, yes. How much do you get for it? 

Chas. O, pshaw, Scraps ! don't be mercenary. Get 
fame, glory. (Takes a small leather case from his pocket, 
and opens it.) Look at that. That's what we get for it. 
There's a badge to be presented to Bob Dyke, our pitcher, 
this evening, as a slight token of the Goosenecks' appre- 
2 



18 MY BROTHER S KEEPER. 

ciation of his valuable services. And I'm to make the 
presentation speech. Ain't it gay ? 

Scraps. Well, 'tis handsome. And you to make a 
speech? I declare, I should like to hear you make a 
speech. 

Chas. Would you? Then you shall. You shall be- 
the pitcher, not exactly the figure, but you'll do for a re- 
hearsal now. You stand there. {Places him in c, and 
goes down, r.) Ahem ! ahem ! Renowned pitcher — 

Scraps. Hey ? 
- Chas. Now what's the matter with you? 

Scrajjs. Why, you're on the wrong side. 

Chas. (crossing to l.). All right. I forgot the imped- 
iment. Now then. Renowned — O,. stand up ; present 
a dignified aspect. 

Scraps. Hey? Me present. I thought you was a 
goino to do that. 

Chas. O, you're a muff. Stand up ; throw out your 
chest. There, that's better. Now. Renowned pitcher ! 
champion of the ball field, model of muscular manliness 
— O, hold up your head, will you? * 

Scraps. How can I hear if I hold up my head? 

Chas. Shut up ! Paragon of perfect proportions, po- 
litest of peripatetic pitchers, how much we owe thee ! 

Scraps. Not a cent. Mr. Carnes settled — 

Chas. Shut up ! As we look back to the glorious 
victories achieved on Potter's field, we see thy noble form 
animated with a spirit bold and daring — 

Scraps. Hey? Spirits? Ton my word I never drank 
a drop ; and as for swearing — 

Chas. Shut up ! In the front of battle, winning re- 



my brother's keeper. 19 

nown for the Goosenecks. We would express our grati- 
tude ; and it devolves upon me, the humble instrument 
of our victorious Dine, to present you this slight token of 
our appreciation of your valuable services. Take it, prize 
it for the giver's sake ; take it, wear it over your noble 
heart. (E?iter,/L., Mr. Benton, followed by Matthew 
Allen.) Take it — 

Mr. Benton {takes badge). Thank you, and once in 
my possession I shall preserve it ; depend upon that, 
Charley Benton. 

Chas. (crosses to r.). The governor. Foul ball. 

Scraps. Is that all, Charley ? 
. Mr. B. So, sir, in spite of my repeated warnings, I 
find you tricked out in a garb I have forbidden, making 
a fool of yourself when you should be attending to busi- 
ness. Shame, shame, Charles! I thought you were 
more of a man. 

Chas. Yes, sir, it's a mistake ; I — I — I know it's 
wrong, but I tumbled overboard a while ago, and as I 
was very dry — no, wet — I — 

Mr. B. Tumbled overboard? 

Chas. Yes, accidentally — not on purpose — walked 
overboard. 

Scraps. Don't you believe it, Abel Benton ; don't you 
believe it. It's a lie ; a downright lie. 

Chas. Scraps, I'll break your head. 

Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. O, I 
know him, Abel Benton, I know him, the smooth-tongued 
villain, and I'll expose his wickedness too. 

Mr. B. Well, Job, what do you know? 

Scraps. I know all about it. It's the common talk 



20 my brother's keeper. 

on the wharf ; and if I have but one ear ; that's wide 
open. 

Ghas. Scraps, if you say another word — 

Scraps. Hey? — O, you're on the wrong side. O, 
he's a deep one. An hour ago he was on the wharf — 
this scoundrel. Walking coolly down the wharf. Just 
before him was a little ragged, dirty girl — 

Chas. Scraps, Scraps, your life's in danger. 

Scraps. Hey? — You're on the wrong side. Creeping 
along, picking up chips, and this rogue, this scamp, close 
behind her. She reached the end of the wharf — 

Chas. Scraps, another word, and I'll strike — 

Scraps. Hey? — You're on the wrong side, I tell you. 
— Her foot slipped, and over she went ; and this villain, 
this cold-blooded villain — 

Mr. B. Looked coolly on. 

Scraps. Cool, — his boots were off in a second, and 
over he went, seized the child, and held her head above 
water until they were both drawn out. Look at him ! 
look at the calm, cool, calculating villain. O, he's a 
deep one. 

Mr. B. Charles, is this true? 

Ghas. I'm sorry to say it is, sir. 

Mr. B. Sorry ! Charley, my boy, you're a noble — 
Hem ! yes, sir, you have disobeyed my orders, and I shall 
see that you are punished. As for this trinket, I'll take 
care of it. (Unlocks drawer in table, c, deposits the case, 
and then locks drawer.) Here it is safe, but you see it 
no more. (Exit, l.) 

Ghas. Out on the badge. Scraps, I've a great mind 
to pommel you. 



my brother's keeper. 21 

Mat. No you won't, Charley, for he's defeuded you. 
Give me your hand. You're an honor to the house. 

Scraps. What did I tell you? Villany is always 
found out, always. 

Chas. O, I'll be even with you, Scraps. 

Scraps. Hey? — You're on the wrong side. 

Chas. We've had quite enough of your interference ; 
so go. 

Scraps. Yes, I'll go down on the wharf, and hunt up 
more of your crimes. O, you're a sly one ; deceive 
your father, hey ! walk overboard, hey ! Ha, ha ! you'll 
catch it. Ha, ha! (At door, r.) I say, Charley, red 
hot, red hot ! (Exit, r.) 

Mat. Dick, here's Foley's invoice. You copy that, 
and I'll take Dixon's. They must both go by next mail. 
(Sits at desk, R.) 

Rich, (at desk, l.). All right, Matt. 

Chas. (sits on table, c). "I saw it but a moment, 
but methinks I don't see it now." The renowned pitch- 
er's badge has gone into the governor's drawer, and how 
the renowned pitcher is to get it, and how the subscriber 
is to present it to the renowned pitcher, are questions of 
vital importance, in fact, red hot. The governor won't 
give it up ; but I must have it. 

Rachel (outside, r.). Goodness gracious, I shall die, 
I know I shall. 

Betsey (outside, r.). Do behave yourself, Rachel 
Allen. I declare, you mortify me to death. 

Rachel. Can't go another step. (Enters, r., with her 
arms full of bundles. She drops them in a heap on the 
floor, r., and falls on her knees.) It's no use. It's that 



22 my brother's keeper. 

last camel hair shawl that broke this camel's back. 
Why, hallo, Charley ! 

Ghas. And hallo, Shellie ! what's the matter? 

Enter Aunt Betsey, r., shaking her parasol at an imagi- 
nary foe outside. 

Betsey. Don't you look at me ! Don't you dare to 
look at me ! Mind your business, impudence. 

Ghas. What's the matter, Aunt Betsey? 

Betsey. Do look at that impudent — Go away, I say. 
Don't stand gawking at me. S'pose he never saw a 
woman afore. Jest like 'em ; they're all alike-. 

Ghas. (looking off, r.). Why, he isn't looking at you, 
Aunt Betsey. 

Betsey. I tell you he is. I know he is. You can't 
fool me. 

Chas. No, he's not looking at you, for the very good 
reason that he's blind. It's only old Foley. 

Rachel. O, Aunt Betsey ! Ha, ha, ha ! what blind 
devotion ! 

Betsey (sitting in chair r. of table). Well, I never ! 
Rachel Allen, where' s your dignity? Get up from that 
floor directly. 

Ghas. What's all this? Where have you been? 

Rachel. Been shopping ; and O, my, didn't we make 
a commotion ! There's nothing but bare shelves and 
bare counters in every dry goods store from the Park to 
the Square. 

Betsey. Goodness gracious ! hear that child talk. 
And there's all my things a being ruined on this dirty 
floor. 



my brother's keeper. 23 

Chas. (picks up bundles, and places them on table). 
Whose are these things? 

Rachel. They're all mine, except the five largest ; 
those are Aunt Betsey's. 

Chas. And there's only six in the lot. That's a very 
modest way of letting me know that you've been loaded 
down with Aunt Betsey's purchases. Why not have 
them sent home ? 

Betsey. Young man, mind your business. When I 
go shopping I mean to have just what I buy, and nothing 
else. Them air counter chaps air dreadful spry and 
smiliu, but they can't deceive Betsey Benton. Never ! 

Clias. But, Aunt Betsey, 'tis too much for Shellie's 
little arms. 

Betsey. Young man, mind your business. When I 
was a gal I had to work, and I mean everybody round 
me shall, if I can make work for 'em. 

Chas. Now look here, Aunt Betsey ; you and I will 
have a falling out one of these* days, if you don't treat 
Shellie better. 

Betsey. Highty-tity, young man ! Mind your busi- 
ness. She ain't a goin to be brought up to a life of idle- 
ness, I tell you. 

Rachel. O, now, don't quarrel about me. Why, 
there's brother Matt. (Crosses, r., and puts her hand 
on his shoulder.) Well, brother Money Grub, how's 
trade ? 

Mat. Ah, Sunshine ! The Elmyra's come. Trade 
is looking up. 

Rachel. O, I'm so glad. I wish I was a man. It 
must be so grand to make money. 



24 mt brother's keeper. 

Chas. Why, you're avaricious, Shellie. 

Rachel. No, I'm not, Charley. I want the money 
with which to buy richer treasures — the poor man's 
blessing and the sufferer's smile. 

Mat. Ah, Shellie, if we could only think so after we 
acquire riches ! But where have you been? 

Rachel. Been shopping ; and, don't you think, Aunt 
Betsey was nearly run over. O, such fun ! 

Betsey. P'uu ! fun ! Well, I never ! I'm most dead 
with fright, and that young one calls it fun ! 

Rachel. Yes, we were just crossing the main street, 
when somebody called out, " Look out, there ! " And of 
course we looked out, and there was a running horse 
almost upon us. I gave one leap and landed on the side- 
walk, but Aunt Betsey she just stood in the street, and 
flourished her parasol, when a ragged individual rushed 
between her and the horse, caught her up in his arms, 
and placed her on the sidewalk. O, she did look so 
funny, with her arms flying about like a windmill, and 
screaming like a locomotive. 

Betsey. Well, I never ! And you stood on the side- 
walk and laughed — absolutely laughed. I never was so 
mortified in my life. 

Rachel. Ha, ha, ha ! I couldn't help it, you did look 
so in the arms of your preserver. 

Betsey. Rachel Allen, I'm petrified ! Where on airth 
is your dignity ! 

Mat. 'Tvvas a very serious matter. And who was 
the brave man who rescued you? 

Betsey. How should I know ? While I was looking 
for a dollar to give him, he slipped off. 



my brother's keeper. 25 

Ghas. I should think he would. A dollar for saving 
your life. (Aside.) O, it's too much. 

Betsey. Where's your father ? 

Chas. In his office, Aunt Betsey. 

Betsey. Well, Rachel, you pick up the bundles. I'll 
just speak to him, and then we must be getting home. 
(Exit, l.) 

Rachel. Why, how queer you're dressed, Charley! 
Is that your working suit? 

Ghas. Well, no — yes, it is one of my working suits. 

Rachel. What does the letter G stand for? 

Rich. Stands for Goose, Shellie. 

Rachel. Ha, ha, ha ! How very appropriate ! 

Mat. 'Tis very appropriate, Shellie, but it doesn't 
stand for goose. It's the initial of Great, and, placed 
where it now is, it fitly represents the great heart beneath it. 
Charley wears that dress at this time, Shellie, because he 
has just saved a little girl from drowning at the risk of 
his own life. 

Rachel. That's just like him. He's always doing 
something brave. (Goes up and takes his hand.) O, 
Charley, I shall love you just as long as I live. 

Ghas. Will you, though, Shellie? Then let me tell 
you that I shall ask that — I am — that you are — 

Rachel. Why, what's the matter, Charley ? 

Chas. Well — I was going to say — that I — that I 

am — 

Enter Betsey, l. 

Betsey. Now, Rachel, get your bundles, and we'll go. 
Chas. Once for all, Aunt Betsey, I tell you I will not 
have it. She shall not carry those bundles. 



26 my brother's keeper. 

Betsey. I say she shall. Young man, mind your busi- 
ness. 

Chas. So I will ; and it's my business to relieve the 
weaker sex of their cares when I can. I'll just take pos- 
session of the bundles, and bring them up to-night. 

Betsey. Young man, I insist — 

Chas. Now, look here, Aunt Betsey; don't get me 
mad ; for when I get angry I always run and jump off the 
wharf — and I don't go alone. 

Betsey. Good gracious ! Do you mean to say you 
would throw me overboard ? 

Chas. I'm afraid I should if I got mad. 

Betsey. Gome, Rachel, let's go. That youth is on 
the broad road going to destruction. Come. (Exit, R.) 

Rachel. Good by. I'm coming back with Grace when 
she comes for her father. O, Charley, for shame ! 
Threatening to throw Aunt Betsey overboard ! (Exit, r.) 

Chas. Of all the aggravating creatures, Aunt Betsey 
is a little ahead. Why don't she get married? She's 
old enough. She's no earthly use in our house, except 
to fret and worry, and interfere in all my little arrange- 
ments. (Enter Scraps, r.) Hullo! you back again? 

Scraps. Hey? yes. I've a little business with your 
father. I say, Master Charley, who's that lady I just 
met? 

Chas. Lady? The young one or the old one? 

Scraps. . The tall, fine-looking lady. (Pointing, r.) 
There, that one. 

Chas. Fine looking! (Aside.) Scraps is smitten. 
(Aloud.) That's Aunt Betsey, father's sister. Did you 
ever see her before? 



my brother's keeper. 27 

Scraps. Hey ? No • — yes — yes — once. 

Chas. You did! Where? 

Scmps. Now, now, Charley, none of that. You're on 
the wrong side. 

Ghas. (aside). He's smitten, red hot! By Jove, an 
idea. Scraps is rich. Why can't I make a match be- 
tween them? Dress him up, and start him courting 
Aunt Betsey. That's one way to get rid of her. (Aloud.) 
Ah, Scraps, you sly dog, I thought you'd met before. 
She often speaks of you. 

Scraps. Often speaks of me ? 

Chas. Yes, thinks you are not what you seem. No- 
bility beneath the ragged covering, soul shines through 
his shaggy eyebrows, and all that sort of thing. O, she's 
romantic. 

Scraps. Often speaks of me ? Well, that's singular. 

Ghas. Now's your chance, Scraps. Dress up ; put 
on a bold air ; you've got the money. u Woo her as 
the lion woos his bride ; " and she'll fall into your arms. 

Scraps. Yes. Well, I'll think about it; I'll think 

about it. 

Enter Mr. Benton, l. 

Mr. B. This note, Richard, must be in Captain Bax- 
ter's hands at once. 

Rich. Yes, sir. I'll despatch a messenger immedi- 
ately. (Exit, R.) 

Mr. B. Matthew, the Spooner Mills are short of 
stock. We can get our own price for the Elmyra's 
cargo. 

Mat. Then I'd better run up in the morning. 

Mr. B. I think you had. Take the first train. You 



28 my brother's keeper. 

can return in the evening. By the way, who sleeps hera 
to-night ? 

Mat. 'Tis my watch, sir. • 

Mr. B. That's bad. You cannot catch the earl) 
train. 

Mat. O, yes, if Charley can come down at six. 

Mr. B. No ; I'll relieve you myself. 

Mat. All right, sir ; I'll make my arrangements ac 
cordiugly. (Exit, r.) 

Mr. B. Charles, go into my office. I've a few word? 
for you. 

Chas. Yes, sir. (Aside.) Words that burn — red 
hot ! (Exit, l.) 

Mr. B. Well, Job, old friend, how wags the world 
with you ? 

Scraps. Hey? O, well, Abel; well. I pick up 
enough to keep soul and body together, and now and then 
a dollar for a rainy day. 

Mr. B. Why will you persist in this vagabond life ? 
You would be a valuable man to me in the warehouse. 
I have often urged you to take a place here. 

Scraps. I know it, Abel ; but I like to be my own 
master. Here I should be cramped. Regular hours and 
regular work — Not for me, Abel ; not for me. 

Mr. B. I don't like to see an old friend creeping 
about the streets, picking rags from the gutter like a 
vagrant; Look at me. The old life is almost blotted 
out of memory. I have made my way to a respectable 
position, while you, who started in life with me, still 
cling to the old existence. It's too bad, Job. 

Scraps. No, Abel, not too bad, for it's the life I love. 



my brother's keeper. 29 

You were ambitious to rise in the world ; to get money. 
You have been successful, and your old friend rejoices in 
your prosperity. But all your wealth ' requires much 
care. You are auxious, uneasy. There are hard lines 
in your face. The failure of one of your speculations 
would go near to break your heart. While I manage to 
scrape, " here a little, and there a little," roam about, 
look and laugh at the follies of the world, watch the 
struggles and triumphs of busy men, and speculate, with- 
out risk, on the rise and fall of stocks. 

Mr. B. That's very ragged philosophy, Job. 

Scraps. Hey ? Philosophy ? No, that's freedom, and 
freedom gives one so much time for observation to ac- 
quire knowledge. Why, Abel, I know more about your 
business than you do. With all your wealth, you are at 
the mercy of your clerks. 

Mr. B. My clerks are models of industry, energy, 
and honesty. 

Scraps. All of them ? 

Mr. B. Yes ; I would not have in my employ one hour 
a young man whom I could not trust fully. 

Scraps. Blind, Abel, blind. I know better. I've 
seen one of your clerks at the gaming-table night after 
night. I have seen him enter places where no honest 
man should go. I have seen this, Abel. I'm a little dull 
of ear, but I've a sharp eye. 

Mr. B. One of my clerks, Job? Which one? 

Scraps. Hey? — Now, you're on the wrong side. 
Abel Benton, find out yourself. I will watch, but you 
must trap the game. 

Mr. B. Is it my son ? I tremble while I ask it. 



SO my brother's keeper. 

Scraps. What, Charley ? No, no ; he's the soul of 
honor. 

Mr. B. Is it — 

Scraps. No, no ; fair play, Abel. I've set you on the 
track. I shall do no more. 

Mr. B. Very well, I will watch, and if I have the 
faintest suspicion I will act. My clerks ! Job, if I did 
not know you so well, I should doubt you, and not them. 

Scraps. O, I'm all right. Now for a little business. 
I had a scare last night, Abel. Somebody broke into my 
room, seized me by the throat, and demanded money ; 
but I had strength enough to throw him off, and rouse my 
neighbors. He escaped; my money was safe; but it 
must be put in a safer place. {Produces small hag.) 
Here is a hundred dollars, all in gold. You, Abel, must 
take care of it. 

Mr. B. Certainly. (Takes bag, goes to table, c, sits 
and ivrites.) I shall not count it ; your word is enough. 
It shall be well taken care of. Here's your receipt. 
(Gives receipt.) The money shall go in here. (Opens 
the drawer in table where he has placed the badge, and 
locks it.) 

Scraps. What ! Leave my money there after what I 
told you ? 

Mr. B. For that very reason. You have directed 
suspicion to one of my clerks. Your money should be 
the bait to catch the rogue. Hush ! No more. Here is 
my daughter. 

Enter Grace, r. 

Grace (c). Good afternoon, father. Are you ready 
to escort me home ? 



my brother's keeper. 31 

Mr. B. (l.). la a few moments, Grace. This is an 
old friend of mine, Job Layton. 

Grace. One I have longed to see. (Crosses to Scraps, 
r., and takes his hand. — Scraps confused.) My father 
often speaks of you, his old friend. Why don't you come 
and see us? You shall be heartily welcome, and I will 
do my best to entertain you. 

Scraps. Lord bless you, pretty one, your father and 1 
parted company years ago — he to go up, I to stick in 
the mud. I go to your house? Why, your servants 
would slam the door in my face. 

Grace. No, no, Mr. Layton, nobody is driven from 
our door. There's an easy-chair waiting for you, and if 
you will come you shall find yourself with true friends. 
Now promise me you will come. 

Scraps. Yes, yes, some time I will come. (Tarns to 
door, r.) Good by. (Aside.) She's a darling. Ah, 
Abel may well be proud of such a daughter. And I, — I 
might have had a daughter to hang about my neck, to 
brighten my home, instead of being a lonely, ragged 
scavenger. O, Job, Job, I begin to doubt you. Freedom 
is all very well, but the chain which a loving child throws 
about a lather makes slavery worth enduring. Bah, 
Job ! You a philosopher ! More likely an old fool — an 
old fool. (Exit, r.) 

Mr. B. Grace, if that man survives me, look to it that 
he never suffers. When I was poor he was my best 
friend. Many a time in our rag-picking days he has 
robbed his basket to fill mine. Under that old coat there's 
a true heart. He must never suffer. 

Grace. Never, if I can help it, father. Charley is 
very fond of him. Where is Charley, father? 



32 my brother's keeper. 

Mr. B. In disgrace. Waiting in my room for the lec- 
ture he so richly deserves. 

Grace. Why, what has he been doing ? 

Mr. B. Jumping overboard to save a drowning child. 
I could forgive that, but he's rigged himself iu that out- 
lawed sporting suit, for which he shall be well lectured. 

Enter Dick, r. 

Rich. Good afternoon, Miss Benton. (Bows, and 
crosses to desk, l.) 

Grace. Good afternoon, Mr. Carnes. 

Enter Matthew, r. 

Mat. Ah, Miss Grace ! You are early. 
Grace. Matthew, I'm glad to meet you. (Shakes 
hands with him.) Yes, I've come to carry father off. 

Enter Rachel, r. 

Rachel. There, I've torn my dress with one of those 
dirty bales. I declare, I can't see the use of having so 
many rags about. 

Mr. B. To turn into money, Shellie. 

Rachel. Hallo, Uncle Abe ! Out of your den? Come, 
get your hat. We've come to lead you home. 

Mr. B. I'll be ready soon. By the by, young gentle- 
men, I have placed a hundred dollars in gold in the upper 
drawer of that table for safe keeping. It belongs to Job 
Lay ton. 

Mat. A hundred dollars ? Isn't that an unsafe place 
for so large a sum ? 

Mr. B. Not while I have honest clerks. I shall be 



my brother's keeper. 33 

very glad to see you at my home to-morrow evening. 
You will return in ample time, Matthew. You will meet 
there my partner. 

All. Your partner ! 

Mr. B. Yes, I am getting old, and have decided to 
take a partner — a young and active man. You will 
have an opportunity to make his acquaintance before he 
enters upon his duties. {Exit, l.) 

Grace. Now he's going to scold Charley. But not 
if I can help it. I've prevented it before, and I'll try it 
again. (Exit, L.) 

Mat. (sits at his desk). A partner! A young and 
active man ! Who can it be ? 

Rachel (comes down and leans over his chair). What's 
the matter, brother? 

Mat. Thinking, Sunshine, thinking. We must all do 
that, you know. 

Rachel. Well, then, tell me your thoughts. My 
brother should have no secrets from his keeper. That's 
the bargain, Matthew. 

Mat. A new master is to step in here, Shellie — 
here, where, for seven years, we have worked so well 
together — the old master and his clerks. A man with 
new ideas, perhaps tyrannical, to upset the old smooth 
order of things. What says my keeper to that? 

Rachel. She says, Think on, brother. Think of the 
good old man who laid his hand on your shoulder so 
kindly when you were a stranger in a strange land ; 
who has been your steadfast friend from that hour to 
this, and say, Let new masters come; while the old 
master lives I have faith that he will never desert me. 
3 



34 my brother's keeper. 

Mat. Right, my keeper, right. Do what he may. 
I will believe he loves and trusts me. 

Enter Charley, l. 

Chas. Well, I'm otit on that. After roosting on a 
high stool for nearly half au hour, anxiously expecting 
a storm, that dear sister of mine drops in just as the 
clouds begin to gather, and all's sunshine. Hallo, Shel- 
lie ! You here again ? 

Rachel. Yes, Charley. Come,, pick up the bundles, 
and start the caravan. 

Chas. But we must wait for Grace. 

Rachel. Then let's take a stroll down the wharf. I 
want to see the place where you walked overboard. 

Chas. Yes, where I put my foot in it. I can lead 
you to it. It's a delightful spot, so cool and retired. 
Come along. {Exeunt Chas. and Rachel, r.) 

Rich. Well, Matt. 

Mat. Well, Dick. 

Rich. What are you going to do about it — the new 
partner? 

Mat. Accept the new order of things, and work as 
diligently as ever. 

Rich. Matt Allen, you're a fool ! There should be 
no partner in this concern except you or me. The head 
centre cannot want capital. ' Perhaps this is a surprise 
for one of us. 

Mat. Surprise? That's not his way of doing busi- 
ness, Dick. Think of our staid, sober old master per- 
petrating a joke ! I couldn't imagine it. No, it's an 
outsider, — who, I cannot guess. 



my brother's keeper. 35 

Rich. I have a strong suspicion, Mat,, that you 
are the man. You have a strong friend beside the 
throne. 

Mat. A strong friend? Who do you mean? 

Rich. Grace Benton. It needs no very sharp eyes 
to see that she looks upon you with favor. Always a 
smile, a pleasant word, for you. She listens as though 
you were an oracle when you speak, and blushes when 
your step is heard. All sure signs. Don't be a fool,, 
Mat. She's a rich catch. Be bold, and she is yours. 

Mat. {rising, indignantly). Silence, Dick Carnes ! 
Another word and I shall forget that we are friends, 
and chastise you for your insolence. Do you think me 
so base as to take advantage of the kindness that seeks 
to make me forget my humble position? so mean as 
to betray the trust reposed in me by my employer? 
Grace Benton is too high in social position for me to 
dare approach her as a suppliant for her hand or heart. 
Dick, I believe I am an honest man. I look upon a for- 
tune-hunter as no better than a thief snatching at the 
treasures of another ; and rather than have this imputa- 
tion cast at me I'd leave this place forever. 

Rich. But, Mat, if she loves — 

Mat. Silence ! Another word and we are enemies. 

(Sits, R.) 

Rich, (aside). High and mighty! Chastise me for 
my insolence ! Well, two can play at that game. An 
honest man, ia4eed ! He's too honest. He has no sus- 
picion that the new partner is himself. I have. And 
he's to step above me. I'd like to thwart the head cen- 
tre. If he could be made to suspect Mat! But how? 



36 my brother's keeper. 

Ah, the drawer ! Scraps's hundred dollars ! The head 
centre has the key, but it's not the only key that opens. 
The key of Mat's desk fits that lock. I know, for I've 
tried it. It's his watch to-night. I've an idea. (Rises, 
puts on his hat, and crosses, r.) Mat, don't get angry. 
You deserve the partnership, and you deserve the girl. 
It's a pity you can't have both. Good night. — (Aside, at 
door, r.) An honest man ! I've known a fortune to be 
lost in a single night, and why not a character. Mat 
Allen, this night I'll play for yours. (Exit, r.) 

Mat. She looks upon me with favor. She, the bright 
being that I have worshipped afar off, as men look upon 
treasures far beyond their reach. What could he mean ? 
Have I betrayed myself? Does he know how madly I 
love her? No, no; never by word, look, or act have I 
betrayed my secret. Ah, Grace, Grace ! glorious, unat- 
tainable ; the idol of a cultivated circle, with a throng of 
admirers about you, your fortune is a safeguard against 
the approach of the humble worshipper — (Grace enters, 
advances across stage, and leans on his chair, listening) — 
who would die to show his devotion. Year by year this 
love has grown upon me, and now 'tis almost too strong 
to prison in my heart. But I will be strong. I know 
'tis an honest love, that could boldly speak were all the 
barriers of wealth and station removed. But this can 
never be ; so to my heart alone, as to a sacred shrine, 
I'll go to worship you, my glorious Grace. 

Grace. Dreaming the happy hours away, Matthew? 

Mat. (rises in confusion). What — Grace — why — 
how — what — I beg your pardon. Did you speak? 

Grace. Why, bless me, Matthew, what's the matter? 



my brother's keeper. 37 

Have I interrupted some desperate plot, or some dream 
of love ? You really look frightened. 

Mat.' Do I? Well, it's very natural. — No, I don't 
mean that. Does your father want me? 

Grace. No ; but I do. Now, compose yourself, and 
we will talk business. Do you know what day to-mor- 
row is ? 

Mat. .Why, it's Wednesday — isn't it? 

Grace. Isn't it ! What a bright business man. To- 
morrow is the anniversary of a very important event. 

Mat. Your birthday ? 

Grace. O, that's not important. To-morrow is the 
anniversary of the entrance of Matthew Allen into busi- 
ness life. 

Mat. And you remember this? 

Grace. Indeed I do, for 'twas the beginning of a very 
happy life for all of us. 'Twas then I formed a dear 
friendship, which has continued until this day. 

Mat. Ah, Grace, it is so kind of you to say it, — you, 
who are so exalted in society, to confess friendship for a 
poor man. 

Grace. Poor man ! I confess no such thing. The 
friendship, I admit, is with a brave fellow, who has bat- 
tled night and day to serve the man who once befriended 
him ; rich in honest worth, noble in every manly accom- 
plishment ; a man with a strong arm and a quick brain, 
who has the right to seek and claim the highest station, 
or woo and win the highest lady in the land. 

Mat. Grace, Grace ! This to me ? 

Grace. To you, Matthew, for you are the man. To- 
morrow my father makes choice of a partner. Who it is 



38 my brother's keeper. 

I do not know. He has kept his secret even from me. 
I know not what changes may be made, but you, Mat- 
thew, must leave this place. 

Mat. I leave this place ? You know not what you 
say. I cannot do it. 

Grace. Not do it ? Why not ? 

Mat. Because I love you, Grace. I have hidden it 
so deep that I thought 'twould never escape me. But I 
must speak. I love you, Grace, dearly, madly, I know. 
Let me stay here. I will still be diligent in business. 
I care not who may come to lord it here ; only let me be 
near you. 

Grace. No, Matthew, you must go. Do you think 
I will allow you, my friend, to be supplanted in this place 
by a stranger. No, Matthew, you have energy and tal- 
ent. Build for yourself. Imitate the example of your 
master, and take a partner. 

Mat. A partner, Grace? You know not what you 
say. Where could I find a partner with capital, for that 
is what I should need ? 

Grace. O, I'll find one for you, never fear ; one who 
will join you in any enterprise — strong, brave, true. 

Mat. Where will you find me such a partner? 

Grace. Here, Matthew, here, with a capital of ear- 
nest, true love. I will be your partner. 

Mat. Am I dreaming? You, Grace, you? 

Grace. Yes, I ; the woman you have loved so long. 
Ah, Matthew ! we cannot hide it. Try all we may, it 
speaks in the flush of the cheek, the gleam of the eye, 
the trembling speech. You have told me that you loved 
me, and I — I — Well, I am your partner, you know, 
Matthew. 



my brother's keeper. 39 

Mat. Dear, dear Grace ! My partner for life ? 

Grace. For life, Matthew. 

Mat. Then on this hand — 

Grace. No, no, Matthew. The head of the new 
house should have higher aspirations. 

Mat. Grace, you're an angel ! {Puts his arm about 
her waist, and kisses her lips. — Enter, l., Benton, with 
his hat and cane; r., Charley and Rachel. — Grace 
and Matthew separate, look down, confused.) 

Mr. B. {aside). So, so ; signed, sealed, and deliv- 
ered. Good, good. 

Rachel. It's a match, Charley. Did you hear that 
smack ? 

Chas. Do you think I'm deaf. 'Twas red hot, 
Shellie, red hot I 

CURTAIN. 



Act 2. Scene. — Same as in Act 1. Dark. Candle 
burning on table, c. Matthew seated at l. of it, his 
hand on Rachel's shoulder. She sits on a box at his 
feet, her arm resting upon his knee. 

Mat. And so, Shellie, you have stolen away from 
your cheerful home, with me to keep vigil in this gloomy 
place. 

Rachel. Yes, brother. Uncle Abe was busy at his 
books, Charley had gone out, and Aunt Betsey was nod- 
ding over her knitting, so I just put on my hat and shawl, 
scampered off, and here I am, to spend an hour with 
you. 



40 my brother's keeper. 

Mat. Ever thoughtful, Sunshine. You well knew 
your bright face would light up the old counting-room, as 
it has every dark scene in my life. Ah, sister mine, how 
dreary the last seven years would have been without you 
to comfort and console. 

Rachel. Seven years ! Why so it is, and to-morrow, 
to-morrow is the day we celebrate. I declare, I'd almost 
forgotten it. It seems but yesterday that we stood be- 
side the death-bed of our mother. Poor mother ! how 
she must rejoice at our prosperity, for I feel her presence 
always. 

Mat. Yes, sister ; ever near us. Dark was the life 
journey of the best of mothers. Heaven guard us from 
thought or act that might disturb her peace or sully the 
brightness of her pure spirit. 

Rachel. Amen to that, brother. Dear mother ! Can 
I ever forget her last night upon earth. I was alone 
with her. She called me to her. The light fast fading 
from her eyes, her face white as the pillow on which she 
rested, her thin, white hand feebly sought to grasp 
mine ; but still the sweet, patient smile was there. 
" Shellie," she said, — dear, dear mother! — U I am 
going — going to sleep. No more toil, no more trouble 
for me. 'Twill be a long, refreshing sleep. I must not 
repine, yet 'tis hard to leave you to battle with the world. 
And the other, — my boy, your brother, — O, Shellie, 
temptations will be around him. He must work for you 
both. Let him always feel the sunshine of a sister's love. 
Be his helper, his counsellor, his keeper. - Sacrifice the 
dearest wish of your heart, if you can save him from 
the cold world's cruel snares." — Dear, dear mother ! 
( Weeps.) 



my brother's keeper. 41 

Mat. Nay, nay, sister, do not weep. She is an angel 
now. Nobly have you fulfilled her last request. Ever 
near me, ever thoughtful of my comfort, ever consoler of 
my dark hours, how much I owe to you. Ah, Sunshine, 
'tis the strong arm that clears the path, but 'tis the gentle 
hand that points the way, revives the failing strength, 
and heals the stinging wounds. You have indeed been 
my keeper. Now dry your eyes, for I want your advice. 
You know we are to have no secrets from each other. 

Rachel. That's the compact. Have you a secret? 

Mat. Yes, indeed ; an important one. I'm in love. 

Rachel, O, that's no secret. 

Mat. Indeed, sharp eyes ! Well, I've another, then. 
I'm engaged. Wish me joy, sister. Grace Benton, the 
rich, beautiful, charming Grace Benton, has promised to 
be my wife. 

Rachel. Well, I declare ! And I suppose you want 
my consent. 

Mat. Your consent? 

Rachel, Certainly, sir. Am I not your guardian? 
Very well, sir ; you shall have it. Bring her to me, and 
I will place my hand on your heads, and " bless you, my 
children," in the most approved manner. O, I'm so glad ! 
But, stop ! she has a father. 

Mat. I am aware of that. Now what shall I do? 
Go to him, confess my love, and ask his consent, or run 
away with her? 

Rachel. Both, of course — that is, one at a time. 
Ask his consent. If he declines the honor of an alliance, 
elope. {Enoch outside, r.) Good gracious! What's 
that? 



42 my brother's keeper. 

Mat. It sounded very much like a knock. Perhaps 
a message ; perhaps some one for you. (Knock repeated.) 
At any rate, I'll soon find out. (Rises ; takes the candle.) 
Keep quiet, Sunshine. I'll be back in a minute. (Exit, r.) 

Rachel (sits in chair l. of table). No secrets from each 
other, and I haven't told him mine. Come here on pur- 
pose too. For I'm in love — eugaged. Charley Benton 
has promised to be my wife — no, my husband. Shall I 
ask his father's consent, or run away with him. Dear 
Charley ! he's such a queer fellow. I wonder if a young 
lady ever had a proposal from a man with his arms full 
of dry goods before. It all happened as we were going 
home to-night. " Shellie," said he, "dear Shellie!" 
And then he squeezed my arm, and dropped a bundle. 
" Plague take these bundles. — Shellie, I love you ! " 
Another squeeze, and away went another bundle. I 
thought I should have died with laughter. 

Enter Matthew, r. 

Mat. (places candle on table). A note for me, Shellie. 

Rachel. A note? From whom? 

Mat. That's just what I'm going to find out. (Opens 
note.) Hallo ! from Charley ! 

Rachel. From Charley Benton ? 

Mat. Yes. (Reads.) " Dear Mat : I'm in trouble. 
If you don't want me locked up for the night, come to 
Murphy's billiard-hall and rescue the subscriber, Charley 
Benton." What does this mean? 

Rachel. Charley in trouble? O, Mat, go at once ! 

Mat. I cannot, Shellie. 'Twould cost me my situa- 
tion. I am placed here in trust. Mr. Benton would 



my brother's keeper. 43 

never forgive me should I desert my post. Foolish fel- 
low ! he's always getting into a scrape. 

Rachel. You must get him out of this. Think, Mat, 
'tis his own son. He must not be locked up. 

Mat. I dare not go, Shellie. To leave this place 
would be ruin to me. 

Rachel. To be locked up in a cell would be ruin to 
him. Think of the disgrace. O, for my sake, brother, 
do go. 

Mat. Your sake, Shellie ? 

Rachel. Yes, mine. I am his promised wife. 

Mat. Shellie ! And you have kept this from me ? 

Rachel. I came here to-night to tell you ; but your 
happiness, of course, took precedence, and I must wait 
to tell mine. You will save him — won't you, Mat? 

Mat. But there's no one to leave here. 

Rachel. Yes, I am here, and you know I'm a famous 
keeper. I'll guard everything while you're away. Now 
go, that's a good brother. Here's your hat. (Gives him 

hat.) 

Mat. Well, I'll go, Shellie, for your sake. I don't 
like to leave you here alone. Keep quiet, and do not 
leave the room. (Exit, R.) 

Rachel (sits l. of table. Speaks slowly). Charley iu 
trouble ! Won't I pull his ears for him ! What can lie 
have done ? Nothing wrong. — He's such a rash fellow ! 
— What's that ? How lonesome it is here ! What can I 
do to amuse myself ? (Takes look from table.) "Promis- 
sory Notes," — that's not very promising reading. (Takes 
up another.) "Bills Payable," — 0, that won't pay. 
What's that? There's somebody at the door. I hear a 



44 my brother's keeper. 

key in the lock. Can Mat have returned so soon? 
Hark ! Steps ! and coming this way ! 'Tis not his 
tread ; 'tis stealthy, creeping ! What shall I do ? It 
may be a burglar. O, heavens ! I'll blow out the light. 
(Blows out light.) Who can it be? O, I wish Mat 
was here ! What will become of me ? I'm shivering 
with fear. Let me hide somewhere. (Crouches at end of 
lounge, l.) Nearer, nearer ! I can hear my heart beat. 

Enter Richard, stealthily, r. 

Rich. So, so ! I've tricked the faithful watchman. 
The bait took, and he's off on a bootless errand. Well 
planned, my boy. Now for the key. (Creeps to desk, r.) 

Rachel. Somebody's creeping about the room ! 
Heaven protect me ! 

Rich, (takes key from lock). All right. Now for the 
gold. (Passes to table, c.) Here's the drawer. The 
key fits. Open sesame ! (Opens drawer.) Here's 
Scraps' shiners. (Takes out bag, locks drawer, creeps 
back to desk, r., and places key as before.) Successful 
burglary! The gold is in my possession. Mat Allen 
will be suspected, and the partnership blown sky high for 
the present. (At door, r.) I must be off. He'll see 
the trick, and be back — but too late, too late ! The 
treasure's flown. (Exit, r.) 

Rachel (comes forward). Gone! 'Twas a burglar. 
The drawer has been robbed, — robbed in Mat's absence, 
— and I, who should have protected it with my life, 
skulked in a corner like a coward. What shall I do? 
0, brother, did I counsel you wrong? I'll pursue him 
until help appears, then have him secured. Yes, 'tis the 



my brother's keeper. 45 

only course left. (Creeps to door, R.) Hark! Gra- 
cious heavens, he is returning for more booty ! Shall I 
raise an alarm? No, no ; who could hear me? 'Twould 
be but the signal for my own destruction. O, Mat, Mat, 
why don't you come? (Creeps bach to hiding-place, l.) 

Enter Charley, r., with arms outstretched. Walks 
against table, C. 

Chas. O, crackee! (Creeps down, R. Walks against 
desk, R.) O, Gemini ! Well, this is a hard road to 
travel ! I never could have believed it, never. Our Mat 
deserting his post — for it must have been him I saw 
leaving the warehouse. Now where can he have gone ? 
It's very lucky I had my key, or my little plot to secure 
the pitcher's badge would have been a dead failure. 
Ah, ha, my good father, I do hate to thwart your plans, 
but what's a fellow to do that has to present a badge, 
and has no badge to present? So I'm going to avail 
myself of your key, which I quite accidentally found in 
your pocket, to open your drawer and secure the badge. 
I wish Mat was here, for I could very easily hav.e de- 
fended my action; but this looks very like burglary. 
However, the renowned pitcher must not be disappointed. 
So here goes. (Goes to table, C, unlocks drawer, takes 
out badge, locks drawer.) There you are, my beauty, 
to make glad the heart of Bob Dyke. Now for the 
Goosenecks. (Crosses to R. of table.) Might as well 
have a smoke as I go down. (Pats cigar in his 
mouth.) Wonder if I can find a match. (Searches 
pockets.) 

Rachel. What is he doing now? O, if I could but 



46 my brother's keeper. 

secure the villain ! If I could but get a look at his face, 
that I might know him again ! (Creeps up to table, back 
L. corner, leans forward anxiously.} 

Chas. I've found one. (Draws match across table.) 

Rachel. Ah, he strikes a light. Courage, Shellie, 
courage. 

Chas. All right. (When the match is well lighted, 
brings it up to his cigar. It illumines his face.) 

Rachel. Gracious heavens ! Charley Benton ! (Falls 
on lounge.) 

Chas. What's that? Rats! rats! (Flings book, l.) 
" Dead for a ducat." 

QUICK CURTAIN. 


Act 3. Scene. — Parlor in Abel Benton's house. 
Lounge, l. h. corner. Table, c, back. Arm-chair on- 
rollers R. of table. Arm-chair on rollers, r. c. Chair 
against wall, near R. entrance. Rachel discovered 
lying on lounge with her face buried in her handker- 
chief. 

Rachel (raising her head and throwing her handkerchief 
across the room). There, I'm just going to put an end 
to this business. All clay long I've been lying round, 
making myself wretched, and crying until my eyes ache 
for a miserable — I was just going to say thief. Well, 
he is a thief. He robbed his father's drawer, that's cer- 
tain. I saw him myself. Charley Benton — my Char- 
ley ! — O, dear ! where's my handkerchief? No, I won't 



my brother's keeper. 47 

drop another tear. He isn't worth it. And I, like a 
little fool, instead of telling Mat all about it, must needs 
lie to shield him. I hadn't the heart to tell my brother, 
when he asked me if anything had happened, — for he 
hadn't found Charley, — that Charley had been there. 
My Charley ! — Where's my handkerchief? No, I won't 
cry. I will keep his secret, but I won't shed another 
tear. I wonder what he took. Uncle Abe is awful 
sober, but he says nothing about a robbery, and Charley 

— I've taken precious good care to keep out of his way 

— I'll have nothing to say to him. It's most time for 
Mat to be back. I dread the meeting. How can I look 
him in the face after deceiving him so ? 

Enter Charley, r. 

Chas. Ah, Shellie, I've caught you at last. Now, 
you coquettish puss, explain the meaning of this avoid- 
ance of me for a whole day. 

Rachel (rising). Mr. Benton. 

Chas. Hallo ! That's not my name. It's plain 
Charley. 

Rachel. Then, plain Charley, you will oblige me by 
keeping your distance, by calling me Miss Allen, and by 
avoidiug me, as I shall endeavor to avoid you, in future. 

Chas. Why, Shellie, what's the matter? Last night 
you told me that you loved me. 

Rachel. Last night I thought you worthy of any 
woman's love. I have found out my mistake. 

Chas. But, Shellie, I am all in the dark. 

Rachel. I was ; but a ray of light, just the gleam of 
a match, has wonderfully dispelled the darkness in which 



48 my brother's keeper. 

I was enveloped. You understand — a match. Hence- 
forth we are strangers. (Exit, l.) 

Chas. A match. It's the worst match ever I took a 
hand in. What does she mean? Does she mean the 
match we made last night? Is she going to throw it off 
without a trial ? I don't like this, for I love her dearly. 
For her sake, last night, after the presentation, I with- 
drew from the Gooseneck Nine. I must know the cause 
of this sudden change. It's some of Aunt Betsey's work, 
perhaps. But I'll know. She's too dear a girl to give 
up without a struggle. 

Enter Scraps, r., in full evening dress, with his basket 
under his arm. 

Scraps. Here I am, Charley, in full regimentals. 

Chas. Scraps, old fellow ! — I beg your pardon, — 
Job Layton, Esq. Well, well, it's astonishing what good 
clothes can accomplish. But you don't want that basket. 

Scraps. Hey ? 

Chas. You don't want that basket. It's out of 
place. 

Scraps. Well, I don't know about that. There's 
nothing like having an eye to business. (Picks up 
Rachel's handkerchief, and puts it in the basket.) 

Chas. Put it in the hall. Sink the shop here. 

Scraps. Just as you say. (Exit, r.) 

Chas. He's a splendid old chap. Now if we could 
only make Aunt Betsey believe so ! He's just the man 
to make her a good husband. I think if we could take 
her by surprise she might accept Scraps, for I don't be- 
lieve she ever had an offer. There's nothing like being 



my brother's keeper. 49 

quick in these matters ; so I'll bring them together at 
once. 

Enter Scraps, r. 

Scraps. There, I've put it up stairs with my old togs. 
Now, what next? 

Chas. Scraps, you have often said that auy favor I 
might ask of you would be freely granted. 

Scraps. To be sure I have ; and I say it again. 

Chas. All right. Then I ask you to marry. 

Scraps. Hey ? You're on the wrong side. 

Chas. You're on the wrong side of matrimony, and 
the sooner you chauge your position the better. I've 
found a wife for you. Follow my instructions and you 
will be a happy man. 

Scraps. Marry! I? O, come, Charley, none of 
your jokes. Who'd marry me — an old rag-picker? 

Chas. A poor old rag-picker — with forty thousand 
dollars. 

Scraps. Hush ! Do you want to ruin me ? 

Chas. I know where you deposit. 

Scraps. Well, don't tell all you know. Who's the 
lady? 

Chas. Aunt Betsey, the lady you saw at the office. 
O, Scraps, you'd make a splendid uncle. 

Scraps. O, but this is all nonsense. She doesn't 
know me ; I've never met her ; we're total strangers ; 
it's absurd, ridiculous. I'm going. home. 

Chas. No, you're not ; you're going to meet Auut 
Betsey to-night ; and take my advice, Scraps, propose at 
once. There's nothing pleases a woman so well as an 
energetic lover. 
4 



X 



50 my brother's keeper. 

Scraps. But, Charley, I don't know how. 

Chas. It's easy enough. Tell her you've long ad- 
mired her ; you have heard of her sweet disposition, her 
amiable qualities. 

Scraps. But I can't, Charley. I should be sure to 
make a mess of it. 

Chas. O, it's easy enough. Here's the programme : 
I introduce you — " Miss Benton, Mr. Layton, a gentle- 
man who has called on particular business." I leave you 
alone. You bow ; offer her a chair ; take one yourself. 
A short pause. You speak. " Madam, 'tis a beautiful 
evening." She answers, " Delightful, sir." Then you, 
with a sigh, — don't forget that, — " But this trait of 
Nature is not confined to the weather alone. Some 
women " — emphasize the some — " resemble it." She 
sighs, blushes, and says, " Ah me." You speak quick. 
" You have unconsciously spoken my thoughts. 'Tis you, 
indeed," — clasp your hands, — " on whom my thoughts 
are fixed. Why have you so long remained single? 
Your attractive appearance, your graceful carriage, your 
classic face, your coal-black hair — " 

Scraps. Hold on, Charley. That's too much. The 
beautiful evening, and ah me, and the sighs, are all very 
well, but the carriages, the coals, and all that, are too 
much. 

Chas. O, these are merely complimentary epithets. 
You can number them : one, attractive appearance ; two, 
graceful carriage ; three, classic face ; four, coal-black 
hair ; five, amiable temper. 

Scraps (counting his fingers). One, attractive appear- 
ance ; two, graceful carriage, — all right, I'll keep tally 
on my fingers. What next ? 



MY brother's keeper. 51 

Chas. The rest you must leave to inspiration, for 
here she conies. Tell her you adore her, and throw 
yourself on your knees, beg her to bestow her hand — 
Here she is. 

Scraps. But, Charley, I shall make a mess, I know I 
shall. 

Enter Betsey, r. 

Betsey. Well, I never. There's that front door stand- 
ing wide open, and the coal bin just as full as it can be, 
too, and Abel away at this time of night, and Mr. John- 
son standin in his front yard a smokin a nasty pipe. If 
there's anything I detest, it's a pipe. When Abel had 
them gas pipes put in, I told him jest how it would be, 
though what that's got to do with smokin tobacco the 
Lord only knows. Why, here's Charley, and a strange 
man, too. Wonder if he wiped his feet. 

Chas. Good evening, Aunt Betsey. This is my friend, 
my wealthy friend. Miss Benton, Mr. Job Layton. 

Betsey. How do you do, Mr. Job Layton ? 'Pears to 
me I've heard one of them names afore. Layton ! Why, 
bless me, there was a family of Laytons lived right oppo- 
site us — poor as puddock, too. Any relation of that 
tribe ? 

Chas. O, no ; Mr. Layton is descended from a very 
aristocratic family, of very ancient origin. 

Betsey. Biblical, pr'aps. There was a Layton in my 
family Bible. — No, 'twan't, nuther ; 'twas Job, the man 
who had so many blisters. Praps he was one of your 
family. 

Chas. Aunt Betsey, Mr. Layton has a very delicate 



£2 my brother's keeper. 

matter to bring to your attention. He wishes to consult 
you on a subject that lies near his heart. 

Betsey. What's the matter with him ? Hope 'tain't 
neurology or rheumatics. That's always fatal when it 
affects the heart. What's his symptoms? 

Chas. I'll leave him to explain. Treat him kindly, 
for he is one of the best of men. 

Betsey. Is he? Well, so are they all, till they're 
found out. There was Judith Higborn's husband. Why, 
folks thought butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he was 
so meek, till Judith sent him one day to the milliner for 
her bunnet, and that was the last ever seen of the hus- 
band, or the milliner, or the bunnet. Spring bunnet, too, 
wuth ten dollars. 

Chas. Well, listen to his complaint, and remember 
he has my recommendation as an excellent husband. 
(Exit, R.) 

Betsey (aside). Husband? Whose, I wonder? He 
don't look very bright. Well, Mr. Layton, what's your 
symptoms? (Scraps bows, wheels chair down from c, 
and bows, motioning Betsey to be seated.) Thank you. 
(Sits.) Well, he's perlite, anyhow. (Scraps goes to r., 
wheels down chair r. of Betsey.) What a draft from 
that door ! Guess I'll take the other chair. (Moves into 
chair placed by Scraps.) 

Scraps. Hey? She's on the wrong side. That won't 
do. I can't hear a word. (Passes behind Betsey, takes 
the chair at her l., and wheels it round to her r.) 

Betsey. Law sakes, you needn't have troubled your- 
self. (Moves to the other chair.) That was just as com- 
fortable, just as comfortable. 



my brother's keeper. 53 

Scraps (looking at her). It's no use. I can't hear a 
word there. (7s about to move the vacant chair, as be- 
fore.) 

Betsey. What ails the man? Stop ! stop ! Sit down. 
(Scraps looks at her, then sits.) Something the matter 
with his heart? I should think 'iwas his head. Now, 
then, what's the symptoms ? 

Scraps. I can't hear a word. (A short pause. 

They look at each other.) Madam, it's a delightful 
evening. 

Betsey. Delightful evening! The man's a lunatic: 
I know it. Why, it's raining cats and dogs. The mud 
is twelve inches deep. It's horrid, horrid I 

Scraps (aside). Don't hear a word. (Aloud.) But 
this freak of nature is not confined to the weather alone ; 
some women are just like it. 

Betsey. Now, what does he mean by that? Some 
women are horrid ! Does he mean me ? 

Scraps (aside). She spoke, but I heard nothing. 
(Aloud.) Yes, you have unconsciously spoken my 
thought. 'Tis you, indeed. 

Betsey. What? O, the man's a lunatic; he cer- 
tainly is. He ought to be put in a strait thimajig at 
once. 

Scraps (aside). What comes next? Single, single. 
(Aloud.) No wonder you have remained single so 
long. 

Betsey. The sarcastic wretch. 

Scraps (aside). So far, so good. Now then. (Counts 
his fingers.) One, appearance — (Aloud.) Your ven- 
erable appearance — 



54 my brother's keeper. 

Betsey. O, the wretch ! And he old enough to be my 
father. 

Scraps (counts his fingers. — Aside). Two, form — 
(Aloud.) Your antique form — 

Betsey. O, I'd like ;o strangle him ! 

Scraps (counting. — Aside). Three, face — (Aloud.) 
Your coal-black face — 

Betsey. O, Charley Benton, you shall pay for this. 

Scraps (counting. — Aside). Four, hair — (Aloud.) 
Your more antique hair — 

Betsey. The man's a fool. 

Scraps (counting. — Aside). Five, temper — (Aloud.) 
Your versatile temper — 

Betsey. Stop, stop, I say ! You've said quite enough. 
(Bises.) 

Scraps. Hey? (Aside.) What next? (Aloud.) 
You are dying for me, or I am for you, it don't make 
much difference. (Falls on his knees.) Behold me at 
your feet. Bestow upon me your haud. — " If ever I 
cease to love — " 

Betsey. I will ; there. (Boxes his ears, first rigJit, then 
left.) There! You're a fool, or a lunatic. If you ever 
show your face here again I'll scratch your eyes out, 
you mean, coutemptible old ragamuffin. You jest make 
yourself scarce, or I'll have the police after you. Come 
here again, and I'll have a boiler of hot water ready, 
and use it, too. Venerable, indeed ! You old idiot ! 
(Exit, r.) 

Scraps. Evidently not a success. Well, I'm glad of 
it. I've made a fool of myself to please the boy. I 
don't know what she said, but I'm on the wrong side. 
(Bises.) 



my brother's keeper. 55 

Enter Mr. Benton, r. 

Mr. B. Ah, Job, you're the very man I wanted. Bat 
how's this? Here in my house, and dressed so fine! 
What is the meaning of this? 

Scraps. O, it's one of Charley's jokes. He wanted 
to bring me out in society. (Aside.) And he has, with 
a vengeance. 

Mr. B. Well, I'm glad to see you. But listen. Your 
money is gone. 

Scraps. Has it? Well, I'm not surprised. 

Mr. B. You will be when you learn who took it. 
'Twas Matthew Allen. 

Scraps. You're mistaken. 'Twas the other. 

Mr. B. What other? 

Scraps. Richard Carnes. 

Mr. B. No, Job, 'twas Matthew. Of that I am sure. 
He was left in charge of the office. He was seen in Mur- 
phy's billiard-room at nine o'clock. I'm sure. When 
I found the money gone this morning, I put a detective 
upou his track. There can be no mistake. It is Mat- 
thew Allen. 

Scraps. I don't believe it. If forty detectives were 
on his track, if a thousand circumstances couspired to 
point out Matthew Allen as the thief, I would doubt all 
but his honesty. 

Mr. B. Bah ! Job, you're too credulous. He has 
been false to his trust. Against my express orders, he 
left my store last night ; and should he ever return, I 
will discharge him from my employ. 

Scraps. Don't be hasty, Abel. Give the lad a chance. 



56 my brother's keeper. 

He has served you well. Even if he were guilty, you 
should be merciful. 

Mr. B. Merciful to a thief? How do I know but 
what he has robbed me before? No, he shall be puu- 
ished. 

Scraps. Bah ! You'll have to beg his pardon for sus- 
pecting him. Abel, keep cool. Wait till the real thief 
shows his hand. 

Mr. B. He has shown it now. No, no, Job, you like 
the lad, and would save him if you could ; but depend 
upon it {Enter Rachel, r.) the thief who stole your 
money was Matthew Allen. (Exit, l.) 

Rachel. O, what do I hear? Matthew suspected! 
No, no, it cannot be. Mr. Lay ton {comes cloivn r. of 
Scraps), what did he say? What did he say? Whom 
does he suspect? 

Scraps (aside). His sister ! 'Twould break her heart. 
{Aloud.) Hey? You're on the wrong side. {Crosses 
to r.) Ill go and change this toggery, for I don't feel 
easy. (Exit, r.) 

Rachel. Brother Mat suspected! O, I. never thought 
of that. But I can clear him, I can clear him. But 
how? By denouncing Charley, my Charley, that I love 
so dearly? O, I can never do that. Perhaps he wanted 
the money for some special service. Perhaps < — O, why 
should I try to excuse so base a deed? O, would that I 
were dead ! If I betray Charley, his father Mill drive 
him from the house, and I should never see him again. 
And, spite of his crime, I love him so dearly! But my 
brother ! He must uot suffer for the crime of another, 
nor will he, for they have no proof. And Charley ; he 



my brother's keeper. 57 

would curse me should I betray him. O, what shall I 
do I (Falls on her knees by sofa,.) O, mother, saiuted 
mother ! if you watch over your child, guide her iu this 
dark hour. (Buries her head in sofa, weeping.) 

Enter Richard, r. 

Rich. Ah, Shellie ! at your devotions. (Rachel 
rises suddenly.) Don't let me disturb you. Where are 
all the good people ? 

Rachel. Good evening, Mr. Games. Take a seat. 
Grace and my aunt will soon appear. 

Rich. Thank you. (Sits l. of table. Rachel on 
lounge.) Has Mat returned yet? 

Rachel. No, we are expecting him every moment. I 
am sorry he could not arrive sooner. 

Rich, (aside). So am I. I expected to find his coat 
hanging in the hall. Old Scraps's money-bag is heavy 
in my pocket and on my conscience. I must get it dis- 
posed of somewhere about Mat's wardrobe. (Aloud.) 
Where's Clwley, Shellie ? 

Rachel. I don't know. 

Enter Charley, r. 

Chas. Nor does she care, Dick. I'm glad to see you. 
Do you feel better, Shellie? 

Rachel (turns her back). No, I don't feel better. 

Chas. Then we must get Aunt Betsey to prescribe 
for you. (Enter Betsey.) Here, Aunt Betsey, is 
another patient for you. Come, Shellie, tell her your 
symptoms. 

Betsey. Symptoms ! Well, if they're anything like 



58 my brother's keeper. 

those of the last patient you found for me, I prescribe a 
lunatic asylum at once. How do you do, Mr. Carries? 

Rich. Good evening, Miss Benton. How becomingly 
you are dressed this evening ! Your stately person — 

Betsey. Now don't you be a fool. I've heard enough 
allusion to my personal appearance this evening already 
to make me sick. (Sits n. of table.) 

Chas. (aside). . Hullo! Scraps must have made a 
failure. (Aloud.) Did you comfort my friend, Mr. 
Lay ton, Aunt Betsey? 

Betsey. You just bring him here again, that's all. 

Enter Grace, l. 

Grace. Shellie, Shellie, Matthew's come. • I heard 
his step on the walk — and I should know it — (Stops 
confused.) Why, I didn't know we had company. Good 
evening, Mr. Carnes. 

Rich. Good evening, Miss Benton. 

Grace (aside). Tiresome thing ! Just spoiled my 
meeting Matthew in the hall. (Aloud.) Shellie, why 
don't you run and meet Matthew? 

Rachel. My head aches fearfully. (Aside.) How 
can I meet him? 

Betsey, Land sakes ! He knows the way from cellar 
to garret. 

Enter Matthew, r., with coat on his arm, which he 
throws across chair, R. 

Mat. Ah, here you all are. Home again, as you see. 
Grace (running to him). Matthew, welcome ! 
Mat. Thank you, my dear (pause), dear friend. 
(Takes her hand.) 



my brother's keeper. 59 

Grace. Well, what success? 

Mat. The best of success. The cargo of the Elmyra 
is sold. (Enter Mr. Benton, l.) Good evening, Mr. 
Benton. I was just telling your daughter my mission was 
successful. The cargo of the Elmyra has been taken. 

Mr. B. Indeed. Do you know of anything else that 
has been taken, Mr. Allen? 

Mat (surprised). Mr. Allen? To what do you allude, 
Mr. Benton ? 

Mr. B. Matthew Allen, as you well know, I am a 
man of very few words. Last night you were left in 
charge of my warehouse. During the night a bag of 
gold, placed in a drawer for safe keeping, was abstracted. 
Where is it? 

Mat. A bag of gold, belonging to Job Layton, stolen ? 
I know nothing about it. 

Rachel (aside). Why don't Charley speak? (Char- 
ley is in conversation with Aunt Betsey.) 

Mr. B. This is strange. You were left in charge of 
the warehouse. Did you leave it during the night ? 

Mat. I did. 

Mr. B. Where did you go? 

Mat. That, sir, I cannot tell. I received a note late 
in the evening from a friend, calling upon me as a friend 
to assist him. That is all I can say. It remains for 
him to clear the mystery. 

Rachel (aside). O, why don't Charley speak? One 
word from him, and Matthew is clear. 

Mr. B. So, sir, you cannot clear the mystery ; but I 
can. You left that place to go to Murphy's billiard- 
room. You were seen there. This money was left in 



60 MX brother's keeper. 

your charge. You alone were responsible for it ; and I 
charge you with the theft. 

Mat. Mr. Benton ! 

Grace. Father ! 

Rachel (aside). And there Charley sits as cool as a 
villain. Why don't he speak? 

Mr. B. Yes, Matthew Allen, I have trusted you 
fully. I have believed in your truth and honesty ; but 
the very fact that you quitted that store is proof positive 
of your guilt. 

Mat. Mr. Benton, all I have in the world I owe to 
you. I believe I have not been ungrateful for your kind- 
ness. Had I done the base deed of which you accuse 
me, I could not look you in the face, as I do now, and 
pronounce your charge false. 

Rachel (jumping up.) Charley Benton, do you hear? 
Why don't you speak ? 

Ghas. I beg t your pardon, Shellie. What's broke ? 
I've been having a talk with Aunt Betsey. 

Rachel. Mat, my brother Matthew, is accused of 
theft — by your father, too. 

Ghas. That's a serious matter. I say, father, what 
is it? 

Mr. B. Nothing that should be made public. Mat- 
thew Allen is about to quit my service disgraced. 

Mat. Disgraced ? 

Mr. B. Yes, disgraced ! Everything is against you 
— your absence from the store, the empty drawer, the 
missing money-bag — 

Ghas. (aside). Drawer, store, money-bag! (Aloud.) 
I say, Shellie, what's all this ? 



mt brother's keeper. 61 

Rachel. And you ask me? Shame, shame, Charley 
Benton. 

Chas. Well, confound it ! If you won't tell me what 
it's all about, you'll excuse me if I don't interfere. (Re- 
tires up.) 

Mr. B. (to Matthew). There is not one circumstance 
in your favor. 

Grace. Father, you are wrong. There are a thousand : 
his good, true life ; his zeal in your service ; his care for 
his sister ; — all stand out to shield him from suspicion. 

Mr. B. You, Grace, defend him? 

Grace. With my life, if need be. I know him to be 
so good, so true, so noble, that when you turn him from 
your door, my arm shall be around him, and my voice 
shall whisper in his ear, " Whither thou goest I go." 

Mat. Dear, dear Grace ! 

Rachel (aside). Must I learn my duty from her. 

Mr. B. Never ! No daughter of mine shall link her 
fate with a felon — a thief ! 

Grace. A thief? 'Tis false ! 

Rachel. Ay, false, false ! And I can prove it. 

All. You, Shellie? (Aunt Betsey comes down, l. 
Situations : Matthew, r., Grace, r. c, Rachel, c, 
Mr. Benton, l. c, Aunt Betsey, l., Charley and 
Richard bach by the table, looking on.) 

Rachel. Yes, I ; for I was in the counting-room when 
that money was taken. My brother is guiltless. He 
was called to help a friend, as he tells you. I was left 
alone. I heard a step ; blew out the caudle. The thief 
entered, opened the drawer in the table, moved away, 
and then returned and made a second attempt. I was so 
frightened that I did not tell my brother. 



62 my brother's keeper. 

Mat. That was wrong, Shellie. 

Rachel. I know it, brother. I have deceived you, 
and am no more worthy to be called your keeper. But 
you shall be cleared. ( With feeling.) Uncle Abe, sup- 
pose a young girl had a brother, whom she loved very 
dearly ; a brother, whom she had told her dying mother, 
should never suffer, when any sacrifice could be made on 
her part. Suppose she also had a lover, whom she loved 
very dearly, — very, very dearly, — and she were called 
upon to sacrifice one or the other, who had committed a 
crime, what should you advise to do ? 

Mr. B. Save the innocent — if it broke her heart. 

Rachel. Right, Uncle Abe ; you are right, sir. Lis- 
ten, then. Last night, when that thief came in for the 
second time, I was on the alert. After he had accom- 
plished his purpose, he struck a match, and as he held it 
up to light a cigar, I saw his face. 

Mat. His face, Shellie? Did you. know him? 

Rachel. Know him? (Throws herself into his arms.) 
Too well, too well. 'Twas him. (Pointing.) Charley 
Benton. 

All. Charley Benton ! (All fall bach, showing Char- 
ley coo lly seated on the table with his arms folded.) 

Chas. Well, what of it? I was in the store last 
night, did open the the drawer, and take from it — 

Mr. B. The bag of gold? 

Chas. (coming down.) No, sir, the pitcher's badge, 
which you so unceremoniously locked up for me. 

Mr. B. But the money? 

Chas. I know nothing about it. There was none 
there when I took the badge, that's certain. 



my brother's keeper. 63 

Mat. So, Charley, your note to me was a blind to get 
me from the store. 

Chas. What note? I sent no note. Hang it, what 
a mysterious time you are having here ! Who's the rob- 
ber, anyhow? 

Mat. I received a note signed with the name of Char- 
ley Benton. Here it is. I thought it my duty to leave 
the store, as I had left my sister in charge. 

Chas. And Shellie caught the thief? 

Rachel. Stop, Charley. Did you take the badge the 
first or second time you entered the room ? 

Chas. Hang it, Shellie, are you beginning to be 
suspicious ? I entered the store but once. 

Rachel. And found nothing in the drawer but the 
badge ? 

Chas. Not a thing. 

Rachel. Then there was another. 

Rich, (aside). I wish I was well rid of this bag. 
There's Mat's coat in the chair. I can easily slip it into 
the pocket, and then I'm safe. 

Mr. B. Yes, there was another ; and that other your 
brother. 

Grace. Still suspicious, father. 

Mr. B. Still suspicious ; and, until the thief is found, 
you, Matthew Allen, are suspended from service. 

Mat. This is very hard, Mr. Benton. 

Mr. B. You should not have left that store had fifty 
notes been sent you. Had the building been in flames 
you should not have disobeyed my orders. 

Rich, (who has crept over to chair, r. Aside). Now, 
then, to fasten his guilt. 



64 my brother's keeper. 

Mat. Very well, sir. I have tried to do my duty. 
If I have failed, my heart, my conscience acquit me of 
blame or guilt. 

Rich, {takes money-bag from his breast pocket. Aside). 
All right. Now, then. {About to place it in Matthew's 
coat pocket. Scraps enters suddenly, r., in his old cos- 
tume, his basket in both hands.) 

Scraps. Hey? (Holds out basket. Richard starts 
back, and drops the bag into basket.) You're on the 
wrong side, Mr. Carnes, the wrong side. 

Mr. B. Job Layton, what are you doing? 

Scraps. Recovering my money. Here it is. ( Gomes 
down, c.) Here is the money (showing basket), and here 
the thief. (Seizing Richard by wrist.) 

Mr. B. Richard Carnes? You are mistaken, Job. 

Scraps. Now don't be a fool, Abel. I knew when I 
placed that money in your hands it would be found in the 
possession of Richard Carnes. He's a notorious gambler ; 
that I know. He frequents Murphy's billiard-rooms ; he 
was there last night ; wrote a note to Matthew Allen, 
and sent it to the store last night ; then entered the store 
with a false key — 0,1 know him ! I've proof enough 
that he committed this theft to put him in prison, and he 
knows it. Hey, Mr. Carnes? 

Mr. B. Richard Carnes, what have you to say ? 

Rich. Nothing : if you take the word of that raga- 
muffin, I am a thief; but this little affair was arranged 
for an entirely different purpose. It has failed, and I am 
the loser. I am a gentleman's son ; my father will make 
all losses good. As for the business, I have grown tired 
of it, aud want a change ; so, with your permission, I will 



my brother's keeper. 65 

throw up my situation. If I am wanted, you will find 
me at home. I shall not run away. Good evening, Mr. 
Benton ; good evening, all. (At door, r.) A cursed 
stupid mess I've made of it. (Exit, r.) 

Scraps. Well, that's cool. 

Chas. Decidedly. Shall I stop him, father? 

Mr. B. No ; let him go. If he feels one half the 
shame I feel for my share in this business, he is suffi- 
ciently punished. (Crosses to Matthew.) Matthew, I 
beg your pardon. I have been hasty. Knowing your 
worth, I should have cut my tongue out ere I made the 
charge I did. 

Mat. Let it pass, Mr. Benton. Circumstances were 
against me. I should not have left your store ; aud the 
fear of compromising your son kept me silent. 

Mr. B. And you (to Charley), what have you to say 
for your share in this ? 

Chas. Me? Well, I like that! It strikes me I'm 
the martyr — suspected of being a thief, and by Shellie, 
too. 

Rachel. O Charley, forgive me. I thought I was 
right. It was my brother — 

Chas. O, well, if a brother is to stand between you 
and me, the sooner I claim the privileges of a husbaud 
the better. 

Betsey. Shellie, that mau in the ragged coat ! Bless 
my soul, it's him — the man that saved me from the run- 
away horse. 

Rachel. Why, so it is. Strange I should not have 
recognized him. 

Betsey. Who is he ? What's his name ? 
4 



66 my brother's keeper. 

Ghas. Why, don't you know? That's Job Layton, 
Esq. 

Betsey. What, the lunatic? Well, if I'd have known 
he was my preserver — Mr. Layton, Mr. Layton? 

Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. (Turns 
his back to her.) 

Chas. It's no use, Aunt Betsey. You've lost your 
chance. 

Grace. And now, father, where is the new partner 
you were to present this evening ? 

Mr. B. He is here. (Places his hand on Matthew's 
shoulder.) Matthew Allen, for your long service, for 
your true, earnest zeal, for your honesty and value, I 
offer you ajpartnership. 

Jim. Me? O, Mr. Benton, you are my best friend, 
but I cannot accept. 

Mr. B. Not accept? 

Mat. No, sir, for I have already formed a partner- 
ship with another — this dear girl. 

Grace. Yes, father, we have formed a partnership for 
life. 

Mr. B. I see ; and, though I have not been asked, I 
will give my consent. Have your partner, but he must 
also be mine, under the firm of Abel Benton & Son. 

Chas. Well, it strikes me I shall be left out in the 
cold. 

Jlr. B. Your turn shall come next, with Matthew's 
couseut. 

JIat. Anything you wish, sir. 

Rachel. But what's to become of me ? 

Ghas. Now don't you fret about that, Shellie. Grace 



my brother's keeper. 67 

is going into the new firm. Let's you and I form an op- 
position. 

Rachel. And so Miss Grace is to usurp ray place. 
Well, I suppose I must bear it. 

Scraps. Shellie, that scamp of a Charley wants a 
keeper. I know him. He's a rascal — jumps into the 
water, you know. Marry him, and watch him. 

Rachel. What do you say, Uncle Abe? 

Mr. B. You have ray full consent. 

Rachel. And you, brother Mat? 

Mat. I know no one more worthy of my dear sister 
than Charley Benton. 

Rachel. There's my hand, Charley. And as I have 
tried to be true to my brother, so may I be true to you. 
If I have failed in my duty there, it was for love of you. 

Mat. Nay, nay, Sunshine ; you have been ever true. 
The happiness of this hour I owe to you alone. 

Rachel. Say, rather, to our dear, trusty, watchful old 
rag-picker. 

Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. Earthly 
friends may do much to guide and guard each other, but 
Justice, Love, and Truth are servants of a higher Power, 
who, in the darkest hour, is ever the sure, safe, reliant 
keeper. 

Disposition of Characters. 

R. C. L. 

Scraps. 
Grace. Charley. 

Matthew. Rachel. 

Mr. Benton. Betsey. 



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38. 




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I 

41 



SPENCER'S UNIVERSAL STAGE. 

Who's Who. A Farce in One Act. ' ? 
By T. J. Williams. 3 Male, 2 Fe- V 



Diamond cut l>iamoiid. An In- 
terlude in One Act. By \Y. H. M ur- 
ray. 10 Male, 1 Female character. 

37. Look after Brown. A Farce in 
One Act. By George A. Stuart, 
M. D. 6 Male, 1 Female character. 

Monseigneur. A Drama in Three 
Acts. By Thomas Archer. 15 Male, 
3 Female characters. 
A very pleasant Evening. A 
Farce in One Act. By W. E. Suter. 
' 3 Male characters. 
Brother Ben. A Farce in One 
Act. By . I. M. Morton. 3 Male, 3 
Female characters. 
Only a Clod. A Comic Drama in 
One Act. By J. 1*. Simpson. 4 Male, 
1 Female character. 
42. Gaspardo the Gondolier. A 
Drama in Three Acts. By George 
Almar. 10 Male, 2 Female charac- 
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t) 43. Sunshine through the Clouds. 
A Drama in One Act. By Slingsby 
Lawrence. 3 Male, 3 Female char- 
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^ ) 44. Don't Judge hy Appearances. 
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Male, 3 Female characters. 



male characters. 

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The Wife's Secret. A Play in ( j> 
r ive Acts. By George W. Lovell. J3 
10 Male, 2 Female characters. 

The Babes in the Wood. A jjP 

Comedy in Three Acts. By Tom ( -) 
Taylor. 10 Male, 3 Female charac- (£> 
ters. 

Put kins : Heir to Castles in the $ 
Air. A Comic Drama in One Act. J ? 



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One Act. By T. J. Williams 

Male, 2 Female characters. 
Mary Moo; or, "Which shall I 

Marry? A Farce in One Act. By 

W\ E. Suter. 2 Male, 1 Female 

character. 
47. East Lynne. A Drama in Five 

Acts. 8 Male, 7 Female characters. 
The Hidden Hand. A Drama in 

Five Acts. By Kobert Jones. 16 

Male, 7 Female characters. 
Sil verstone's Wager. A Commedi- 

etra in One Act. By K. K. Andrews. 

4 Male, 3 Female characters. 
Dora. A Pastoral Drama in Three ' 

Acts. By Charles Reade. 5 Male, 68 

2 Female characters. 

Blanks and Prizes. A Farce in 69 

One Act. By Dexter Smith. 5 , 
Male, 2 Female characters. 
52. Old Gooseberry. A Farce in One 70 
Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 Male, | 
2 Female characters. 



63. 



64. 



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By W. R. Emerson. 2 Male, 2 Fe- { 



male charac; ers 

An Ugly Customer. A Farce in 
One Act. By Thomas J. Williams. 
3 Male, 2 Female characters. 

Blue and Cherry. A Comedy in 
One Act. 3 Male, 2 Female charac- 
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A Doubtful Victory. A Comedy 
in One Act. 3 Male, 2 Female char- 
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The Scarlet Letter. A Drama in (p 
Three Acts. 8 Male, 7 Female char- 
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Which will have Him P A Vau 
deville. 1 Male, 2 Female charac- ( 
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Madam is Abed. A Vaudeville in 
One Act. 2 Male, 2 Female charac- 
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The Anonymous Kiss. A Vaude- $) 
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The Cleft Stick. A Comedy in 
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A Soldier, a Sailor, a Tinker, 
and a Tailor. A Farce in One 
Act. 4 Male, 2 Female characters. 

Give a Bog a Bad Name. A 
Farce. 2 Male, 2 Female Characters. 

Damon and Pythias. A Farce. 
6 Male, 4 Female characters. 

A Husband to Order. A Serio- (J 
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3 Female characters. 

Payable on Demand. A Domes 
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Female character. 



7 Male, 1 ( 



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Price, 15 cents each. Descriptive Catalogue mailed free on application to 
CEO. M. BAKER & CO., 

149 Washihoton St., Borrow. ( 







C ' Ok KjC ' i ' .-- i ' U. OJ I ' ^J&Lu 'ji 0^">X C-c '- ' L- Ji* l.il O ' -: LW _W L ~ J 



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Plays for Amateur T 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

WW 

015 785 402 W 



By GEORGE M. BAKER. 



Author of " Amateur Dramas," " The Mimic Srage." " The Social Stage," " The Drawing-room Stage,' 
'• A Bakers Dozen," i,c. 

Titles in this Type are IVew Plays. 



DRAMAS. 

hi Three Acts. 



cts. 



My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 
female characters 15 

In Two A cts. 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 
female characters 15 

Sylvia's Soldier. 3 male, 2 female char- 
acters 15 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char- 
acters. 15 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 
characters 15 

Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male characters 15 

The Last Loaf. 5 maie, 3 female char- 
acters 15 

In One A ct. 
Stand by the Flag. 5 male characters. 15 
The Tempter. 3 male, 1 female charac. 15 

COMEDIES and FAECES. 

4 male, 3 female 



The Boston l>ip. 

characters 

The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 
4 lemale characters 

We'ke all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 
female characters 

A Drop too Much. 4 male, 2 female 
characters 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 
4 male, 3 female characters 

A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male characters 

Male Characters Only. 
Gentlemen of the Jury. 12 char. 
A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 
The Thief of Time. 6 char. . . . 
The Hypochondriac. 5 char. . . 
A Public Benefactor. 6 char. . . 

The Runaways. 4 char 

Coals of Fire. 6 char 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . . . 
A Sea of Troubles. 8 char 



FARCES. 

Freedom of the Press. S char. ... 15 

A Close Shave. 6 char 15 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

The Man with the Demijohn. 4char. 15 

Humors of the Strike. 8 char. ... 15 

New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . . 15 

My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. ... 15 
Female Characters Only. 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 15 

Using the Weed. 7 char. . , . . . 15 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char. ... 15 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char .... 15 

The Greatest Plague in Life. 8cha. 15 

No Cure, no Pay. 7 char 15 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 15 

ALLEGORIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux. 
The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 
characters 15 

Lightheart*s Pilgrimage. 8 female 
characters 15 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char- 
acters 15 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male, 4 fe- 
male characters 15 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau En- 
t rtuinment. Numerous male and fe- 
male characters 15 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char- 
acters 15 

Snow bound ; or. Alonzo the Brave 
and t e Fair Imogene. 3 male, 1 
female character 25 

Bonbons; or. The Paint-King. 3 male, 
1 female character 25 

The Pfdler of Very Nice. 7 male 
characters J 5 

An Original Idea, i male, 1 female 
character. J 5 

Capuletta ; or, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, 1 female character. 15 




TEMPERANCE J'lECES. 

The Last Loaf. 5 male, 3 female characters 

The Tempter. 3 male, 1 female character 

W e'ke all Teetotalers 4 male, 2 female characters. 

A Drop too Much. 4 male, 2 female characters 

A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 female characters 15 

The Man with the Demijohn. 4 characters 15 




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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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015 785 402 W 



Hollinger Corp. 



